"Alright, lift over there, young miss."

  A warm, firm voice cut through the quiet of the afternoon. Behind a small, clean cottage in the village of Moulang, the sun was high in the sky, its heat tempered by a gentle breeze that carried the scent of fresh laundry and wildflowers.

  "Yes, Miss Yinzi," Lin replied, carefully lifting a heavy stack of folded, sun-dried linens.

  "You're learning pretty fast, young miss," Yinzi said, placing her hands on her hips with a look of impressed approval. "Much better than how you were the first day you arrived here." A teasing glint appeared in her eyes. "Are you trying to impress me, perhaps?"

  A small, genuine smile touched Lin's lips. "Perhaps," she admitted. "But mostly... I'm just trying to be useful. You told me to prove it with my actions, right?"

  Yinzi nodded, a warm, knowing smile on her face. "That I did." She looked down at Lin's foot. "And how is your ankle, young miss?"

  "Much better, thank you," Lin said, putting a bit of weight on it to show its strength. "Your medicine works wonders."

  "You're welcome," Yinzi replied. "Now, I think we've done enough work for one afternoon." She gestured with her head toward the cottage. "Let's go check on our sleeping prince, shall we?"

  Lin nodded, and the two of them walked back toward the house, a comfortable, easy silence between them.

  Inside, in a small, quiet room, a young man was sleeping peacefully.

  "He looks much better than he did these past two days," Lin said softly, entering the room.

  "He does," Miss Yinzi agreed. She walked over to the bed and gently pressed her forehead against Kun's. "His fever has gone down. Now, all we need to do is wait for him to wake up."

  Miss Yinzi sat down on a simple wooden chair next to the bed. Lin followed suit, taking the other chair, a massive wave of relief washing over her. She exhaled, a big, genuine smile spreading across her face as her gaze remained fixed on the still-sleeping Kun.

  "You look much better now, too," Miss Yinzi observed, her voice gentle.

  "Does it show?" Lin asked, a faint blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

  Miss Yinzi smiled warmly. "Yes, very much so." She paused, her kind eyes studying Lin's happy expression. "So tell me, young miss, I think this is the right time to ask. What is he to you?"

  "Huh?" Lin was taken aback by the directness of the question. She looked at Kun, her mind a flurry of thoughts. "He's... a companion? A friend?" Wait, we never actually said we were friends, she thought. "Someone I can trust? I... I'm actually not sure, Miss Yinzi."

  Yinzi's smile didn't waver. "Alright, let me rephrase my question. How do you feel when you are with him? You fought against the city that raised you, threw away your status and your future... you must have felt something very strong to do all that."

  "I..." Lin began, her gaze drifting back to Kun's peaceful face. "I just feel... comfortable. For the first time in centuries, I can be myself around him. He makes me smile, he makes me laugh. When he bought me that book, it... it made me so happy. We fight occasionally, but it never bothers me. Eventually, all I could think about was visiting him, being there with him." She looked at Miss Yinzi, her silver eyes full of a genuine, heartfelt confusion. "It feels weird. I don't know what this feeling is."

  This girl... she doesn't know it yet, but the signs are so obvious, Miss Yinzi thought, her heart aching with a fond, maternal warmth.

  "It's alright, dear," she said, her voice a soft, comforting murmur. "You'll figure it out someday. But remember to always hold that feeling close to your heart. That special, precious feeling... it's what pushes us forward. It's what makes life worth living. Okay? Promise me."

  Miss Yinzi held out her pinky finger.

  Lin looked at the older woman's outstretched hand, then back at Kun, and then finally at her own heart.

  "Yes, Miss Yinzi," she whispered, a radiant smile on her face as she locked her pinky with hers. "I promise."

  Lin's gaze drifted back to Kun's sleeping figure, his face relaxed and free of the pain that had contorted it for days. A soft giggle escaped her lips. "He looks like a baby, sleeping so peacefully."

  "Trust me, he was much cuter when he was an actual baby," Miss Yinzi giggled back.

  "So when he was in the orphanage, it was..." Lin began, her curiosity piqued.

  "Yes, since he was a baby," Miss Yinzi confirmed, though her expression grew a little sadder. "I found him abandoned in a rice field, not far from the orphanage. His parents... they must have been monsters to leave a newborn out in the cold like that." Anger flashed in her eyes for a moment before she composed herself.

  "I see," Lin said quietly. A wave of empathy, so strong it almost hurt, washed over her. "I guess... I should consider myself lucky. I knew who my parents were. Even when they passed away, I still had memories of them. Kun... he didn't even have that." She looked down at her hands, her earlier happiness now tinged with a profound sadness for him.

  "Dear," Miss Yinzi said softly, her voice full of a warmth that was both comforting and sad. She reached out and pulled Lin into a gentle hug. "You really do remind me of him. Always trying to shoulder everything alone."

  "Huh? No way," Lin protested, pulling back from the hug, a playful pout on her face. "I am way smarter than this idiot." She gently poked Kun's sleeping face with her finger.

  Miss Yinzi laughed, the heavy atmosphere in the room lifting instantly. "Oh really? Then tell me a joke."

  "Uh..." Lin fidgeted, her brain scrambling for something, anything. "What's the best way to a linen store?" she asked, her delivery awkward.

  "I don't know, young miss," Yinzi said, playing along.

  "Undercover!" Lin blurted out, followed by a weak, forced "ha... ha."

  Miss Yinzi stared at her for a second, and then burst out into a full, hearty laugh. "Yep," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "The same style of terrible joke as him. He really is rubbing off on you."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Nooooo," Lin groaned, her face turning red as she buried it in her hands, feeling completely and utterly dejected.

  Lin walked along the dirt paths that wound through the village, her hands stuffed in the pockets of the simple trousers Miss Yinzi had lent her. She kept her head down, kicking a small pebble along the path.

  No, no, Miss Yinzi must be wrong, she mumbled to herself. My humor is not as bad as his. There is no way. I refuse to be the same as him. We are not the same. Please let it not be true.

  She kept muttering to herself, so lost in her internal argument that she didn't notice the neat rows of cottages giving way to open fields, and the fields giving way to the edge of the forest that bordered the village. By the time she finally looked up, she realized she had walked quite a far distance away.

  "Going somewhere, Snow Flower?"

  The voice, sharp and laced with a dry amusement, startled Lin out of her thoughts. She spun around to see Mila leaning against a tree, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her face.

  "You," Lin said, her guard instantly going up. "What are you doing here?"

  "I could ask you the same thing." Mila pushed herself off the tree. "Isn't this pretty far from the village entrance? Are you running away?"

  "No," Lin snapped back, a little too quickly. "Just... a bit distracted. How about you?"

  "Going to train," Mila said simply, stretching her arms above her head. "My senses will get dull if I don't train constantly. Us humans don't live as long as you Sacreds do, so every second is more precious to us."

  Lin looked at the powerful mercenary, the memory of her effortless display of strength against the Fallen still fresh in her mind. A curiosity sparked within her. "Can I follow?"

  Mila shrugged, her smirk widening into a grin. "Feel free, Snow Flower. My training is pretty brutal, though. Someone like you might faint."

  "Bring it on," Lin said, a flicker of her old, competitive fire returning to her silver eyes. She wasn't going to lose. Not to this human.

  The sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. In an open field just outside the village of Moulang, Lin was on the ground, completely exhausted, panting for breath.

  "It seems the great Snow Flower of Jinlun is all talk," Mila teased, standing over her. She hadn't even broken a sweat.

  "Ha... ha..." Lin could barely speak. Master Lihua's training was brutal, but this was something else entirely. "You... how... are... you... not... tired?" she managed to utter between gasps.

  "Told you." Mila's voice lost its teasing edge, replaced by a tinge of sadness. "Time is precious. So I force myself to adapt. If I stop for even a second, my life, or maybe someone else's, might be in danger. Especially in this line of work."

  Lin pushed herself up, her muscles screaming in protest. "You... I saw you... you didn't get tired after using your Core. What's that all about?"

  "Oh, that?" Mila let out a short, humorless laugh. "I do get tired. The burden of using a Core is massive, I'm sure a famed user such as yourself would know. What I did was simply change my fighting style. Use as little and as focused Core power as possible. It results in a smaller, more manageable drawback."

  She looked at Lin, her eyes sharp and analytical. "You, on the other hand, are too reliant on it." She pointed at the dim, flickering crystal on Lin's bangle. "So now that your Core is fading, you become useless." Mila let out a small scoff. "I guess your master was a bad one if they didn't even notice such a fatal flaw in your fighting style."

  "Don't badmouth my master," Lin shouted, her voice sharp with irritation.

  "Oh? What are you going to do about it?" Mila antagonized her, a challenging smirk on her face.

  "I... I will fight you," Lin said, pulling out her small dagger and forcing herself into a combat stance.

  "Love to see you try," Mila replied, readying her greatsword.

  Lin pushed her hand forward, trying to create a single ice lance. But just like before, it flickered, shattered, and a wave of pure, unadulterated fatigue washed over her, forcing her to her knees.

  "You're weak," Mila stated, the words hard, cold facts. "Too reliant. You can't even protect anything in this state."

  The words hit Lin harder than any physical blow. She's right. She looked back at the past few weeks. Master Lihua, helping her escape. Bob, offering her a ride. Miss Yinzi, healing Kun. Everyone had been helping her. I'm useless. The thought was a cold, sharp blade in her heart. "Then... what should I do?" she whispered, a single tear escaping her eye. "This is the first time I've been without my Core... Yet, I don't want to feel that helplessness ever again."

  Mila watched the proud noblewoman break, the raw vulnerability in her voice a stark contrast to the prideful, “perfect” "Snow Flower" she had been hearing throughout her line of work.

  "Then stand up and fight," Mila said, her voice a low growl. "You still have your body, don't you? Change the way you fight. Aren't you also a martial artist? A weapons expert? Or were those advertisement posters I saw just lies?"

  Lin wiped the tear from her cheek, a new, desperate fire igniting in her silver eyes. "No," she whispered. "They're not." She looked up at Mila, her resolve hardening. "You're right. I still have my body."

  And then, for the first time in her centuries of her life, Lin Meihua, the Snow Flower of Jinlun, knelt before someone who was not a king or her master. She put her forehead to the ground.

  "Show me," she pleaded, her voice thick with a humility she had never known. "Train me, the me right now is weak and useless. Please, reforge me, so I can fight even without my Core. I want to protect him."

  Protect him. The words echoed in Mila's mind. For a brief, sharp second, the face in front of her wasn't Lin's, but another girl's, from a long time ago—a face with that same fierce, protective fire in her eyes, a face she had failed to protect. The memory was a sudden, painful sting.

  Mila blinked, her expression hardening to cover the sudden crack in her own armor. A smirk returned to her face, this one holding a new, grudging respect.

  "Alright then. Every break of dawn, you will be with me. I will show you the way of the mercenaries. I hope you're ready."

  "Yes," Lin said, not lifting her head. "By the way... why are you even doing this for me?"

  "Let's just say," Mila smirked again, "Master paid me to do some overtime work."

  "Thank you MIla, you are not as cold as I thought you would be." Lin said, a new resolve filling her very being as she stood up, dusting off her trousers. "thanks to you, I now know where I want to be right now."

  Like a blur, Lin dashed back in the direction of the village, leaving a very confused Mila alone in the field, yet a faint smile on her. Lin rushed back to Miss Yinzi's cottage, her heart pounding with a new, fierce determination.

  The door swung open. "Oh, dear, where have you been?" Miss Yinzi asked, her voice full of concern as Lin burst through the door, sweaty and covered in dirt. "You look like a mess."

  Lin, with a fire in her eyes, simply bowed. "Miss Yinzi," she said, her voice clear and strong. "Can we resume the pie-making lesson now?"

  "Yes, we can, sure," Yinzi replied, surprised. "But why now? You can take a shower first, dear."

  "I need to do this, Miss Yinzi," Lin insisted, her silver eyes blazing with an intensity Yinzi had never seen before. "I have to. Time is precious. I was lost, but I know now. I know what my actions shall be."

  Miss Yinzi looked at the young woman in front of her, at the dirt on her cheek and the fierce determination in her gaze, and she smiled. "Oh, very well, dear. I won’t ask what happen. But, since you seem so invigorated, I won't hold back on you."

  Lin nodded in agreement.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the village, in Elder Chen's small lodging, the mood was far less optimistic.

  "Bob, my boy, look at this," Elder Chen said, her voice grim. "A messenger came from the next town over a few minutes ago."

  She handed Bob a crumpled piece of paper. Bob's eyes widened as he took it, his blood running cold. It was a bounty poster.

  DEAD OR ALIVE SINNER KUN 1,000,000,000 CAL

  Underneath the shocking number was a hastily, almost childishly drawn picture of a scrawny boy with messy black hair.

  They're running out of time, Bob thought, his hand crushing the paper into a tight ball. I need to do something. Now.

  Back at the cottage of Miss Yinzi, the air was now filled with the warm, sweet smell of apples, honey, and freshly baked bread.

  "Yes, dear, that's how you do it," Miss Yinzi said, a proud smile on her face as she watched Lin carefully glaze the top of a golden-brown pie crust. "Very good."

  "I’m making progress, Miss Yinzi," Lin said, a gleeful, triumphant smile on her own face. "Thank you."

  From the small bedroom, the young man who has been asleep for days, muttered a quiet, raspy, single, clear phrase.

  "...honey-apple pie..."